


a moment to bathe in our victory

by AnonymousPuzzler



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (sort of), Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Local gays recover from the apocalypse and navigate their feelings for each other: the fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Rating for non-explicit sexual-ish content. No boning goes down but it sure comes close, spoilers through ep 69 obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousPuzzler/pseuds/AnonymousPuzzler
Summary: The apocalypse comes and goes. In the aftermath, Taako takes a bath, Kravitz worries too much, and some new feelings are reflected upon.





	a moment to bathe in our victory

**Author's Note:**

> yes I know I _KNOW_ I keep promising to work on the Kravitz fic but after the finale this started taking shape and I couldn't help but chipping away at it ever since. I really hope you enjoy

After the story, the song, the apocalypse that wasn’t, the subsequent celebrations lasted for hours. Because, _fuck,_ why wouldn’t they? They’d saved the goddamn _world._ Seemed like a decent enough reason to party hard. Taako felt he more than deserved a few celebratory margaritas, some good ol’ fashioned club dancing with his sister (though the fact that she was now a spectral entity did impede their old routines a bit), and every last bit of praise people were lavishing on him.

He also felt he deserved five _fucking_ minutes to smooch the hell out of his very handsome boyfriend, but. Well. He gets it, much as he loves to play otherwise. Kravitz’s job was important, now more than ever, with all the wayward souls lost and wandering after the Story and Song. He’d let him work, and spend this time enjoying being back with the crew (with his _family,_ he supposed, embarrassing as the admission was), reunited after much too long.

He and Kravitz could celebrate in style later.

And so they partied on, Tres Horny Boys and the Bureau and the IPRE and everyone who had become a part of the fight along the way, long through the night. First bar-hopping through what was left of Neverwinter, then back up to the moon base for an after-party there, Taako (blitzed though he was) scrounging and cooking up as much as he could in the cafeteria. And then, finally, after what must have been hours and hours of celebration, they finally dispersed - and even then, only because everyone was too physically spent to stay standing a moment longer.

Much as he’d hammed it up and relished in the party scene, he couldn’t help but be relieved by the prospect of some good ol’ fashioned Taako time. Magnus had volunteered to lug Angus (long-since passed out on one of the cafeteria benches) back to his room, Merle had actually headed back planetside hours ago to check in on his kids, and even Lup had lured Barry off somewhere to spend some time catching up, so Taako had marched back to the Tres Horny Boys domicile unaccompanied. The cold, still silence that met him there was equal parts uncomfortable and calming - the past 48 hours or so had been so nonstop, so draining, so _loud,_ that coming home to quiet solitude was a relief, yes, but also…

Well. Lonely.

He’d inhaled sharply through his nose, tossed his cloak onto the nearest chair, and resolved not to dwell on it.

And now, here he is, sprawled out across the rumpled sheets of his bed, with his hat askew and boots only half-unlaced. _Gods,_ but he’s exhausted, more so than he’d thought it physically possible for a living being to be. It made sense, he supposed - he’d been going more or less nonstop for days, from Wonderland straight through the apocalypse, and remembered a lifetime of stolen memories along the way. More than enough to wipe a person out.

Still. It sucks, and he’s too uncomfortable to fall asleep, but too exhausted to bother with sitting up and changing into more appropriate sleepwear. And, also, to be perfectly honest (which he _hates_ but is much too tired to fight), that sense of loneliness is _really_ hitting him right now, weighing him down like fabric in water. He’s glad to be free of his usual group for now, yes - too many complicated emotions there, none of which he has the energy to deal with at the moment - but he’s still a people-person, a performer, first and foremost. He doesn’t _do_ too well with solitude, with quiet.

With loneliness.

...Also, to continue the streak of uncomfortable honesty, he kinda _really_ misses Kravitz right now. It had been a few weeks of conflicting schedules and missed connections even before Wonderland, and now, after their too-brief reunion and all that had happened afterwards… well, _shit_ , if there was ever a moment for the Reaper to flop his big, icy body down and soothe Taako with that quiet, grounding presence he always inexplicably carried with him, it was right _fucking_ now.

Not for the first time that night, Taako instinctively reaches for the Stone of Farspeech around his neck, and grimaces when he remembers it’s gone. Barry had stammered out apologies for that earlier (about three drinks in, to be specific), promising to pick up new ones for the trio, but, well. Not like that helped him right now. Even if Barry had gone right out in the wreckage of Neverwinter and bought replacements at the first Fantasy Costco chain left standing, Kravitz’s stone wouldn’t have the new frequency anyways.

He sighs heavily through his nose and rolls gingerly onto one side, wincing at the ache in his ribs. (Merle had been uncharacteristically competent at, well, _being a cleric_ during their final fight, but there was still only so much healing he could do.) Gods, look at him, _Taako from TV_ , savior of this world and countless others, lying around wallowing in self-pity and pining after his boyfriend. It’s a good thing Lup isn’t here right now, or she’d never let him hear the end of it.

He’s interrupted from said self-pity and pining by a loud, sharp, otherworldly tear.

The wizard lurches upright with a start, fight-or-flight panic outweighing the pain of such abrupt movement, instinct prompting him to scramble for the Umbrastaff he no longer has. Just as quickly as it overpowered him, though, the panic quells when he recognizes the telltale portal that’s appeared on the other end of his room - and then, graceless and frantic, Death himself stumbles through.

Taako stares.

Kravitz stares back.

The rift to the Astral plane fizzles briefly, then disappears from existence once more with a quiet _pop._

A few more long moments of silence pass, the two of them just _gaping_ at each other; and just as Taako’s brain has finally caught up and started to say _fuckin’ finally_ or _what took you so long_ or _if you don’t get over here and pin me to this mattress right fucking now I’m gonna lose my mind_ , Kravitz apparently does the same and starts off his usual adorable babbling with a simple, “ _Shit._ Shit, _fuck,_ sorry, I don’t- I wasn’t thinking, I should have- called, tried to call, knocked, something, I don’t know not just _ripped a portal into your room_ like some kind of creep I can leave if you-”

Cute as it is when he works himself into a tizzy like that, Taako cuts the Reaper off abruptly, mustering all his remaining strength to launch himself across the room and smash their lips together before Kravitz can protest that it’ll be _cold and weird._ (Which it is, a little, if he’s being honest - Kravitz is _freezing_ , probably from spending the last few hours rushing about in the Astral plane - but in this moment, Taako isn’t too proud to admit he’s missed this man _far_ too much to be turned off by a chilly smooch.) Kravitz appears taken aback for all of half a second before responding in kind, arms pulling him crushingly close and lips parting eagerly for the elf’s. The two all but devour each other in a breathless rush, Taako barely managing a single gasp of air before Kravitz tugs him back in, a mess of hands and lips and bodies and _hands and hands and hands_ grasping at everything they can reach.

Finally, Taako manages to pull away for air, head swimming, only Kravitz’s face held firmly between his hands keeping the Reaper from crashing their lips right back together. “Gotta- I know this ain’t the kind of sappy bullshit I probably oughta be sayin’ here,” the elf chuckles breathlessly, “and not like I’m not thrilled to see you, dude, but I gotta say- you look like fucking shit.”

Mercifully, Kravitz snorts with laughter rather than taking any kind of visible offense, leaning into Taako’s hand against his cheek, heavy lids fluttering at the subsequent caress. His face is gaunt, and he’s still _freezing,_ and the bags under his eyes are heavier than Taako’s ever seen them, and frankly for a moment he thinks he might drift off to sleep right there against his hand. “I’d say ‘likewise’,” the Reaper quips, gentle and teasing, “but I think we both know you’ve never looked like shit a day in your life.”

That prompts a bark of laughter from the elf, but also, just as quickly, an uncontrollable swell of emotion deep in his chest. (He’s suddenly deeply aware of his changed features, of the fact that he hasn’t had the spell slots or forethought to refresh his glamour, of the way Kravitz is still looking at him like the fucking sun and moon and stars all rolled up into one.) And Taako is definitely _not_ about to cry, no sir, but he maybe tightens his grip and buries his face in Kravitz’s shoulder anyways. Kravitz responds much the same, already-crushing grip tightening all the more around him, sympathetic breath seeming to catch and shudder ever-so-slightly.

And then, what feels like only moments later, the comforting support of Kravitz’s body is abruptly gone, and it takes Taako a few seconds longer than it should to register that the Reaper has dropped to his knees in front of him.

There’s a lot he could say about that, but apparently his brain has decided it’s done for the day and closed up shop, so instead all that comes out of his mouth is, “Oh.”

Kravitz simply chuckles in reply, nose pressed into the divot of Taako’s hip through the fabric of his skirt. “I believe _you_ were the one who insisted we would ‘hook up after this’,” he teases, fingers trembling ever-so-slightly as they creep up the backs of his thighs.

Taako can’t help but gasp as Kravitz’s cold hands reach the curve of his ass, instinctively jerking away from the chill, even with the buffer of his tights between their skin. “I- yeah,” he manages to choke out, moving to grab at the Reaper’s wrists, attempting to delicately maneuver that icy touch just a _bit_ farther away from his junk. “Did say that, yeah, for sure.”

Kravitz pulls back just slightly, blinking up at him, hands retreating away from his thighs. “Do you not want--”

“My dude. You should know by now that I am _always_ down for you to suck my dick.” He seems to settle at that, attempting to return to his previous position, and Taako has to shove his hands away more hastily this time. “ _Buuut,_ at the time I said that, you, uh, you also didn’t look like you might pass the fuck out during said dick-sucking. Which, um, you do now. Look like that. Like you might pass out on my dick.”

Taako never thought he’d see Death himself _petulantly pout up at him,_ but that’s happening now, and honestly, any other time he’d be _very_ into that. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, and before Taako can retort that _no, dude, you’re clearly not,_ Kravitz has very insistently returned to his work, hands up under his skirt and scrambling to tug down his tights.

 _“Hhhhachi machi you’re cold,”_ he gasps at the first skin-to-skin contact, grabbing Kravitz’s wrists once more and pulling away. The Reaper doesn’t move right back in this time, leaving his hands where they’re held a good few inches away from the elf, gazing up wide-eyed and anxious in a way that stirs _something_ deep in Taako’s chest.

For a few seconds there’s only silence, neither moving their eyes away from the other. “...I don’t know when I’m going to have time away from the Astral plane again,” Kravitz finally says, the words practically whispered. “It’s- with everything that’s going on- I just- we might not have time together again for a while. Please.”

And _oh,_ that. That _does_ something to him, emotionally raw as he already is. It occurs to him, now, just how much the two of them have to _do_ now that the world hasn’t ended - the Bureau’s probably going to need to help with the rebuilding efforts; and Kravitz surely has countless lost souls to shepherd to the Astral plane after the battle; and _fuck_ Taako needs to find a new _job_ now; and oh _Gods_ that’s not even considering the inevitable uncomfortable conversation Kravitz is going to have to have regarding Lup and Barry. (And he thinks about the _rush_ in his chest when Kravitz appeared on top of the sapphire portal, and the way he tried to warm up his face like a _fucking dork_ before smooching him, and the _I love you, Taako,_ and _fuck._ )

“...hey,” he finally manages, voice soft and raw and tired, releasing the Reaper’s wrists to trail his fingers up his arms, over shoulders, until he’s cradling his head in his hands once more. Kravitz leans into the touch unhesitatingly, reaching up to grasp Taako’s forearms, heavy lids fluttering shut and gods he just looks so _tired._ He could only imagine it was a chore to drag himself to the Material plane, to be maintaining his physical form, but- but _fuck,_ Kravitz was doing it because- well, because he loved him. It felt strange, even self-centered, to think it (and boy, Taako wasn’t used to having that kind of self-awareness, to actively and openly think of himself as being _self-centered_ ), but… it was true, wasn’t it? Kravitz loved him. He’d said as much himself.

Frankly, after all he’d been through, Taako wasn’t quite sure _how_ to love someone. But Kravitz was making him feel one hell of a _something,_ that was for sure, and right now, that was enough.

“...hey,” he says again, caressing the Reaper’s cheek with a thumb, watching as his eyes blink open blearily. “...how long do you think you can stay?”

There’s another long pause as Kravitz considers, brow furrowed and fingers rubbing circles against Taako’s forearm. “...I don’t know,” he finally admits, soft, reluctant.

Taako nods, chewing at his bottom lip in thought. “...think you can spend the night?”

Another moment of consideration. “...I… I think so. Yes.”

“Rad. Now c’mon. If you’re gonna be sleepin’ over I’m gonna need you to warm up.”

Kravitz blinks, nods, and lets Taako tug him back to his feet, staring down at the elf with a look of half-guilt, half-exhaustion. Taako reaches up and caresses his face again until the guilty part melts away, then grabs his hand and leads him leisurely out into the hall.

Mercifully, the rest of the dorm is still empty - Merle must still be planetside, and Magnus probably got distracted by some act of do-goodery or another - so there’s no prying eyes as Taako leads his undead beau across the hall and into the bathroom. He takes a second to turn around and press a long, lingering kiss to Kravitz’ icy cheek once the door is closed behind them, reveling in the way the Reaper’s hands tighten around his. And then, he reluctantly pulls away to get to work, turning his attention to the tub.

By the time he’s got the water running and his jewelry tossed haphazardly into the dish by the sink, Kravitz has apparently cottoned on, and when Taako next sneaks a glimpse at him he’s already begun dressing down, suit jacket neatly folded and left on top of the toilet. Taako throws him a smirk of approval before digging into the cabinets, grabbing fistfuls of bottles and vials, oils and powders and potions galore - lavender, sandalwood, chamomile, bergamot - anything that sounds even the slightest bit relaxing, he’s dumping and mixing in the tub like some kind of mad scientist. (Which he is, technically, he supposes. _Shit,_ it’s still an adjustment and a half to remember that.)

Somewhere in the midst of his scent-alchemy, he feels Kravitz’s hands wrap around him, hovering just above his button-up. He barely manages to get out a “May I-?” before Taako’s responded with, _“Please,”_ and just like that the Reaper’s carefully undressing him while he works, unlacing his boots and unbuttoning his shirt and tugging away his skirt, treating each article of clothing with infinitely more care than Taako would. (Frankly, he’s fairly certain the whole outfit is already doomed - the shirt is bloodstained from Wonderland and the apocalypse alike, the skirt’s had some nasty snags, and the tights have runs to hell and back - which is unfortunate, as it was _quite_ a look before all that nonsense.)

It’s not too long before he’s fully undressed, the tub filled and scented to his liking, and he shuts off the water before turning to Kravitz. The Reaper is also completely bare, which is ideal both for the progression of this evening _and_ for Taako’s shameless ogling pleasure, roaming up and down his beautifully constructed body. He squirms and averts his eyes under the elf’s gaze - awfully shy for a man who was on his knees in front of him not ten minutes before - prompting a bubble of laughter to escape Taako. “In with you, then,” he snorts, gesturing vaguely towards the tub with his shoulder while he rummages through the cabinets, trying to procure some kind of tie for his hair.

A moment’s hesitation, then he sees Kravitz nod and step towards the tub out of the corner of his eye, reaching past him to grab a tie for his own long locs along the way. The drastic temperature difference makes him visibly wince as he steps into the water - for a second Taako’s pretty sure he sees wisps of steam rising up off his icy body - but he settles in easily, sinking in up to his collarbones, eyelids fluttering once more.

It’s a good look, Taako thinks. Every inch of him on display, relaxing into a hot bath, hair haphazardly piled into a sloppy bun, and just... staring up at him, exhausted yet with absolute adoration. They might have to make a habit out of this; a quick soak and snuggle when Kravitz finally drags his ass by Casa de Taako after a long day’s reaping.

(The image is so fucking _domestic_ that it takes him by surprise for a moment.)

It takes another minute for him to unravel his long-since ruined braid and twist it up and out of his way - the long hair is gorgeous (as is anything when it’s on him), but _fuck,_ does it require _maintenance_ \- but he follows Kravitz into the tub the second he’s mostly assured it’s held in place. And oh, this was an _excellent idea_ ; the hot water is _heaven_ on his aching body, the wild concoction of scents sufficiently calming, and Kravitz’s arms are open and waiting for him to settle in at his side. The Reaper’s still not quite _warm_ when Taako leans his head back against his shoulder, but he’s certainly hurtling in that direction, the heat of the bathwater seeming to seep up through synthesized skin. He’s gotta admit, much as he adores his beau in all possible temperatures, it _is_ significantly more comfortable being enveloped in his arms now.

For several long, wonderful minutes, that’s all there is - pleasant nothingness as the two soak up the warmth, the aroma, and each others’ presence in equal measure, faces barely inches apart and legs tangled together. Eventually, Kravitz’s hands move, caressing down the elf’s sides under the water, and Taako winces when he catches one of the more sore spots. (Just above his hips, he notes, where that stupid hunk of machinery had pinned him in Wonderland. He’d gotten a heal eventually, but long enough after the fact that the injury seemed to linger somewhere deep down in him, bones and muscles and tendons set just a little bit _off._ ) Kravitz’s hands stop there, lifting, hesitating just a second longer than they probably ought to, and then he continues. Lighter now, softer, along the edges of what’s certainly a sizable bruise, just the slightest bit of a tremor to his movements.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” It comes out of nowhere, and it’s so soft that Taako thinks he imagined it for a moment. But then he turns to glance at Kravitz, and there’s a subtle _ache_ in his expression that matches the rawness of his voice, that Taako feels in the pit of his stomach and the back of his throat and the deepest recess of his heart.

“...Yeah. Yeah, likewise,” he murmurs, shifting ever-so-slightly against the Reaper, just enough that he can reach up and run his fingers over a sharp cheekbone, the harsh line of his jaw. Kravitz leans into it, but the tightness in his expression doesn’t fade, soul-fire eyes still looking just past the elf. And so he hesitates where his hand has come to cup his chin, and swallows back a lump in his throat, and before he can think too hard about it he adds, “I am okay. You, uh. You know that, right? That I’m fine now.”

Kravitz’s expression seems to soften and draw tighter all at once, lips and eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah,” he chokes out, a waver in his tone that fuckin’ _does_ something to Taako. “Yeah, I- I just--” and his hands hover just over the bruises around his hips again, his eyes roaming over the tiny scars still left on his shoulders from a rain of shattering glass-- “I. I was so worried about you.”

Taako feels his own hand tremble, ever-so-slightly, feels that _something_ well up in his chest and bring pinpricks to his eyes for the millionth time that day. (And he remembers Kravitz drowning in the black tar-sea of the Hunger, how fucking _days_ seemed to pass before he so much as knew if he was all right, how he couldn’t do a single _fucking thing_ to help him--) “I was worried about you, too,” he hears himself say, and he’s still processing the easy, natural way those words slipped out of him when he finds himself turning in the Reaper’s arms, wrapping them around him, drawing him ever-closer. And then, as he’s coaxing Kravitz’s head to his shoulder, he finally remembers that he has a brand to uphold, and hastily adds, _“dork.”_

Kravitz, a good sport even in this state, simply laughs, quick and sharp and wheezing, as he buries his face against the elf.

It doesn’t take Taako long to realize Kravitz has started crying against his shoulder. He elects to pretend like he hasn’t noticed, in great part because, in any other situation, he would have bolted the second he _did_ notice. And frankly, exhausted as he is, he’s not quite prepared to confront why he doesn’t bolt from Kravitz in particular.

(He knows why, though. Deep down, in the raw and unavoidable honesty he’s found himself displaying tonight, he _knows._ But knowing it is an entirely different beast from accepting or _saying_ it, and he doesn’t think he’s going to _quite_ hit either of the latter two tonight.)

The silence engulfs them again, the room almost suffocatingly still, filled only by the subtle ripple of the bathwater and distant hum of whatever engine keeps the moonbase afloat. Kravitz cries, as quietly as he can possibly help it, and Taako holds him tight and toes that delicate line between ignoring it and not _actually_ ignoring it, and the world is quiet between them in the meantime. It feels like hours later when he finally moves his hands across the Reaper’s back, slow and light and equal parts thoughtless and deliberate; tracing the lines of ribs, shoulderblades, vertebrae, picturing in his mind the skeletal structures beneath false flesh.

(He’s solidly _warm_ now. Increasingly so, in fact. His synthetic breath feels almost natural brushing against Taako’s collarbone, and he feels a hint of an artificial pulse when his hands brush up his sides, pausing just above where a heart would be. The Reaper’s constructed body easing into false life after so many hours - fuck, after years, decades, _centuries_ among the dead.)

“...hey.” Rather than hear said Reaper mumble against his shoulder, he more feels it, full lips brushing against skin and taking him by surprise. He lets go, pulls back just enough that he can comfortably look down at Kravitz, who doesn’t so much follow suit as just turn to look up at him, head still nestled comfortably in the crook of his neck. (He still looks exhausted, maybe even more so now, but that tension has left his expression so Taako’s counting that as a win.) “Are, um. Are you? Okay?”

He can’t help but blink in confusion at that. “Um. Yeah, dude. We just covered this. Also, like. You can see me, all in one piece, lookin’ fresh as hell like always.”

“I- I know.” The Reaper averts his eyes just slightly, ears flicking a little bit back, and _fuck_ if that ain't cute. “I meant. Um. I meant- are you-” he meets Taako’s eyes again, nervous but fond, a hand sliding up to nestle gently in his hair- “Are you _okay._ ”

It takes Taako another minute to register his meaning, but- “Oh,” he murmurs, and his own ears swivel backwards as it hits him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” His gaze slips away again, turning until his nose is pressed into the elf’s collarbone, thumb drawing a lazy circle on the back of his head. “Yeah.”

And Taako… Taako takes a long second to think, which is new; his usual quick, light, witty deflections evading him in this state of pure exhaustion and emotional rawness. (Kravitz, for his part, doesn’t press at all, silent as he breathes against his clavicle, and honestly he’s fairly certain he’d let him get away with changing the subject outright if he wanted.) “I… I mean, no,” he finally says, or rather hears himself say, the honesty taking him so much by surprise it doesn’t even feel like he’s the one saying it. “Not even, like, a little bit okay. But- I mean- nothin’ new there, right? I- you heard the whole, the, the voidfish stuff. You- you know I’ve been pretty fucked up for a long-ass while.”

Kravitz… doesn’t quite answer, just… tightens his grips around him, lips pursing slightly where they’re pressed into Taako’s skin, and the elf has a brief, panicked thought of _shit I said something wrong._ “...yeah,” he finally mumbles after a long moment, and then, after another lengthy pause, adds in a stammered rush, “I don’t- I mean- I hope- fuck. I- y-you would tell me, right, if something- if you needed me to leave or--”

“Don’t,” he blurts out before he’s even realized he’s saying it, blinking at the suddenness of his own words. Kravitz cuts off abruptly, and there’s a beat of silence that’s just the slightest bit too long, and then Taako finds himself murmuring, “I don’t want you to. To leave. I’m- it’s better. With you. _I’m_ better. I- I think I really needed, like, this, tonight. Needed. Needed you here.”

He risks a glance back down at Kravitz, and the watery-eyed look of absolute _adoration_ he finds there makes every last bit of this painful emotional vulnerability worth it.

But still. He pulls the Reaper up into a kiss before he can say any other stupid sappy bullshit.

(His lips are so, _so_ warm now, and the kiss is reciprocated with a passion that makes that _something_ in his chest fill him up from head to toe.)

When they finally pull apart (though not by much; just enough that they can comfortably look at each other and Taako’s no longer devouring Kravitz’s tongue), it’s - well, _fuck._ The Reaper is flushed from the bath and the kissing alike, lips spit-slick and swollen, and he’s got that stupid fucking wide-eyed smile he does when he’s staring at Taako like he’s the most important thing in all the planes of existence. Really, it’s a damn shame he’s too wiped out to get it up tonight, because _Gods_ would it be a pretty picture to see him make that face while being fucked senseless into Taako’s mattress.

But then Kravitz leans in to nuzzle his cheek and pepper feather-light kisses across his jaw, and he decides he’s _more_ than willing to settle for that tonight.

...it occurs to him after a moment that Kravitz has frozen, statue-like, temple still pressed against the side of his face. Odd. Taako runs a hand carefully up the length of his spine, coming to a rest on the flat of his neck, his ears tilting just a bit with concern. “...hey. You, uh. You good?”

“Um.” That’s the only answer from the Reaper for a long moment, save the slightest shudder of his fingers on Taako’s back. “Um. I. Shit.”

“Talk to me, Krav.”

“You’re gonna laugh.”

“What, did I make you bust a nut just now? Geez, Krav, you’re more horny for it than I thought.”

“Taako.” He says it so flatly that the elf can’t help but snort with laughter, though he’s sure the undercurrent of anxiety is audible - the mood whiplash really is making him nervous.

“Fuckin’- I, seriously, though. Tell me what’s up.”

“I… um.” He feels Kravitz squirm just a little bit in his hold, but his arms tighten around the elf when he moves to release him, so he guesses that’s not the issue. “I just. It, uh. Hit me just now. What I- what I said to you earlier.”

“Gonna have to be more specific than that, homie.”

Kravitz makes a little noise of embarrassment at that, and the gut reaction of _fuck he’s cute_ momentarily overpowers Taako’s nerves. “At the sapphire mirror,” he finally mumbles into the elf’s hair.

It takes exactly three long seconds of mulling that over before it finally clicks.

“...Krav.”

“Mm.”

“I- this is about you saying that you-”

“Yeah.” He feels another shudder run through Kravitz’s hands, and his head lowers to Taako’s shoulder, and boy is his face warm, he must be blushing something _fierce._ “...yeah.”

Taako takes a moment to… process, honestly, to let the moment land, to come up with something, _anything_ to say to fucking _this._ “...I. Did you not mean--”

 _“No,”_ Kravitz blurts abruptly, snapping upright, looking as stunned as Taako is at the outburst. “No, I mean- _yes,_ I did- I don’t-” And then, bless his heart, he just buries his face in his hands, emitting an almost inaudible whine.

Taako takes another moment.

Both because he needs to think about this, and because _fuck,_ his poor flustered Grim Reaper boyfriend is _adorable._

Finally, after a stretch of silence and some gradual relaxing of Kravitz’s posture, Taako reaches out to gingerly take the Reaper’s hands and peel them away from his face, finding himself met with a sheepish and red-faced expression that kicks the adorable up to eleven. “Um,” Kravitz starts, averting his gaze, but his fingers close around Taako’s easily at the same time. “I just. You- you remember. One of the times we talked, you know, about, uh. The past and all that. How I, um, how I historically fall for people much faster than is entirely appropriate--”

“How soon?”

Kravitz’s gaze flicks up, surprised. “Huh?”

“How soon did you know? With, uh, with me, specifically. Obviously.”

And the eyes dart away as quickly as they returned. “...I. Um.”

“Look, you don’t - I’m just fuckin’ curious, you don’t have to say if you don’t want-”

“Fourth date.” It’s so quiet Taako barely hears it, but when it registers, _fuck._ He has to stop and blink for a long moment to process _that._

“I’m-- sorry, _what?_ ”

“Technically third,” Kravitz mumbles even more quietly, ears flat back and eyes anywhere but Taako’s face. “But, um. I only really. Admitted it to myself the next time. Couldn’t, um, couldn’t deny it any more.”

“...Krav, our fourth date I fucking sang shitty karaoke to you and got us kicked out of a dive bar.”

“You did.”

“And _that_ was what made you realize--”

“Yeah.” His fingers tense in Taako’s hands, and after a long beat he elaborates, “It, um. I guess it was just, uh- I saw you, like? Mangle fantasy Kesha and throw a strawberry daiquiri at a bouncer and just? Still couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything but be around you? And I guess, um. That made me realize how, uh. How bad I already had it.”

“I… _wow._ ” He blows a heavy breath through pursed lips, blinking sporadically. “ _Wow._ Krav, that’s. That’s super gay.”

“It’s pretty fucking gay, yeah.”

They settle into silence again, both of their gazes now on their hands, joined in-between them. It… sounds cliché to say it, but they really do seem to fit perfectly together: Taako’s long, slim fingers, slightly roughened from years of cooking and adventuring, slotted between Kravitz’s broad, smooth digits. (They’re the hands of a musician, he muses, more suited in many ways to the keys of a piano than the handle of a scythe. He knows Kravitz had once wanted to be a conductor, a dream set aside for death and subsequent service to the Raven Queen, but he’s not positive what instruments - if any - he might have played in life. He wonders if he’d get along with Lup and Barry, lich-ness aside, what with their musical abilities; even Davenport might enjoy chatting about his operas with the Reaper, and _Gods_ there go all those sickeningly domestic images flooding his mind again, something he’d scoff at any other time but finds himself regarding fondly here and now--)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Taako finally murmurs, not daring to look up as the question slips through his lips. “You know, uh, before. Before today.”

There’s another long stretch without a reply, and Taako forces his gaze to remain on their hands, unwilling to risk checking Kravitz’ expression, trying to gauge what he’s thinking in this moment. “...I didn’t want to scare you,” he finally replies, all gentleness and caution and kindness, which takes the ball of nerves in Taako’s gut and starts smoothing it out like freshly-laundered bedsheets. “I mean, I. I know this isn’t. Your _thing,_ you know? I didn’t want to… to risk rushing things, or pressing you, or making you feel uncomfortable, anything like that. I figured- I figured it could wait. Until you were ready. I-if you ever _were,_ of course, I don’t- I still don’t want you to feel pressured, to- to say or do anything. Even though I, uh. Wanged up the whole ‘waiting’ bit now.”

That’s.

_Fuck._

He doesn’t- he _can’t_ say anything, really, words and thoughts and feelings all tangled up in him even as that feeling of _something_ returns to warm every last inch of him. But Kravitz deserves _some_ kind of indication that he’s not about to Blink out of the room and avoid him for the rest of existence, so rather than reply, he just tugs the Reaper’s hands around him, settling back into his arms, nestling his head against his collarbone. Kravitz follows his wordless instructions without hesitance, chin on top of his head and arms curling against his back - slow and gentle, hold secure but loose enough that Taako could easily pull away if he so wanted. (Always doing that for him, always figuring out exactly how much to push and doing no more, always giving Taako an escape route if things somehow become too much.)

It’s another long moment of quiet then, warm and still, the only sounds the rippling of water against the sides of the tub and, now, the slow and gentle thud of Kravitz’s false pulse. And Taako really thinks that’s how the night’s going to continue, steady and quiet, no further responses from him, but.

But the _something_ in his chest decides otherwise, and words start bubbling up slow and easy without him even entirely comprehending it.

“I haven’t ever loved someone,” he mumbles, almost imperceptibly, against Kravitz’s skin; the only way he knows for sure the Reaper’s heard him is by the sudden stilling of his hands, previously tracing lazy circles across Taako’s back. “I mean, like- sure, my sister, and the rest of the crew, and _maybe_ Ango, I guess, but. That’s different. They’re all, like, they’re family at this point, you know? Regrettably. But, I never… never like you.”

“Taako,” Kravitz chokes out, and there’s such a _rawness_ in his voice, the slightest tremble that Taako feels run down his spine, through each and every nerve in his body. “You don’t. You don’t have to--”

“I know I don’t,” he replies easily, more easily than he ever might have dreamed he would in this kind of conversation. “You’d never make me do that. You just wouldn’t. You’re too good to me.”

“I’m exactly as good to you as you rightly deserve.”

“See? Shit like that.” He chuckles once, a brief distraction from the well of _something something something_ sending words up through him like a current. “But- I- I’m not going to. Not tonight.” And before the inevitable disappointment can set in, before Kravitz can send himself into the rabbit hole of anxiety and apologies, he adds, so raw and honest it’s _painful,_ “But I’m going to. I’m pretty sure- no, no, fuck it. _Fuck_ it, I- I know. I’m not ready to say it yet. But I know- I know eventually I’m gonna be.”

There’s nothing but stark silence for a long moment.

Taako finally dares to look up.

And Kravitz, _Kravitz,_ is looking at him with that dumb smile and wide-eyes and tears in his eyes, staring at him like--

\--like he loves him.

Taako kisses him senseless before the Reaper can even begin to respond.

And Gods, _Gods,_ it’s like that heavy weight of _something_ bursts inside him and spreads through every vein, every cell, every ounce of his being; and he drags his lips away from Kravitz’s and buries his face in his shoulder just in time to _sob,_ and _fuck,_ when’s the last time he cried? A few times today, for sure, remembering your beloved long-lost sister and then reuniting with her will do that to a guy. But this, _this_ is a real, proper cry, probably the first since Lup went missing in the first place. And really, any other time he’d be _mortified,_ but the dam has already been broken and Kravitz is just holding him so tight and he feels _safe,_ against all odds. No glamour, now, no performances, no deflections, no facades, just him sobbing wildly and unabashedly in the arms of a man who loves him. A man who loves him as Taako from TV; as Taako the multiverse’s greatest wizard; as Taako who died nineteen illegal deaths; as Taako who massacred a cover of fantasy Kesha while shamelessly drunk-dancing; as Taako who hogs all the blankets and keeps saying terrifying bullshit in his sleep; as Taako who doesn’t _quite_ say ‘I love you, too” and then has a breakdown in his boyfriend's arms.

Kravitz loves him.

And for perhaps the first time ever, he can think that to himself and _not_ expect things to fall apart at any moment.

By the time he settles down, he feels like he’s done ten fucking _years_ worth of crying, heavy and boneless and somehow even _more_ exhausted than he was previously. Kravitz doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt even when the crying ceases, still holding him tight and running his fingers lazily up and down the grooves of Taako’s spine. (Cellist, maybe, violinist, harpist; he can see Kravitz’s broad fingers working strings with the same passion and care with which he treats Taako.) It’s another minute of comfortable silence before the elf so much as shifts, and when he does it’s simply to scoop up a handful of bathwater and try to rinse the tears and snot off of Kravitz’s shoulder, which makes the Reaper snort with laughter in Taako’s favorite way.

They stay like that, lazy and content in each other’s arms, until the water’s grown cold enough that it’s no longer strictly comfortable. (Kravitz, on the other hand, seems to have retained the warmth, which Taako takes as a personal victory.) Even then it takes a while for Taako to finally relent to the discomfort of the cooling bathwater, grumbling and pushing off of Kravitz to pull the plug, earning another one of his favorite laughs. When he turns back he’s tugged into a messy smooch that sends them both into fits of laughter, and they end up kissing and cuddling and giggling until the tub’s completely drained around them.

Only then do they reluctantly disentangle themselves, standing on shaky legs - Taako, for his part, is significantly less sore now, but he’s still going to sleep like a motherfucker tonight - and moving to dry off. (It ends up a shared activity, Kravitz smoothing stray hairs off of Taako’s damp face, Taako helping Kravitz to reach the small of his back and _maybe_ sneaking in a grope of his ass just to hear the adorable yelp of surprise he makes.) Kravitz reaches back for their discarded clothes, but Taako grabs his hand with a mumble of, “Don’t even bother,” and leads them back out into the hall, too wiped out to care if someone sees them stumbling naked back to his room. (He doesn’t see anyone when he does, though, so. Score.)

He’s lucky the bed was already a rumpled mess beforehand, because otherwise there’s no way they would have been able to get under the covers as they fall into bed, exhaustion clearly hitting them both _hard._ He musters up a mage hand to drag the blankets around them as they settle, Taako curling into Kravitz’s waiting arms with a practiced ease, head coming to rest against the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs sleepily after a moment, already drifting a bit against his newly-warmed beau. “You should, uh. You should say it again. Y’know. If you want.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment he thinks Kravitz might have fallen asleep the second he hit the pillow. Then, full lips press against his forehead, and he hears the Reaper whisper, “I love you,” with a reverence that warms him from head to toe.

The words still aren’t quite there for him, though they’re now closer than he ever imagined them. So instead, he tilts up and catches Kravitz in a proper kiss, slow and lazy and _overflowing_ with that _something._

There will be more of these conversations, he thinks. More of these moments where he’ll have to make himself vulnerable in the ways he most hates. There’ll be instances when things are well and truly terrible, like when they have to actually talk through the whole _my sister and sort-of brother-in-law are liches_ thing, or when Kravitz is stuck reaping for weeks on end and they don’t get to see each other, or when Kravitz’s caution and Taako’s impulsiveness butt heads and they push or pull the other just a bit farther than they should.

But.

But there will never be a moment Kravitz doesn’t love him.

(And, as he’s coming increasingly close to admitting, there will never be a moment he doesn’t love him right back.)

Taako settles into the warmth of his boyfriend’s bare body, listening to the rhythm of his false breath, and no matter what’s happened before, no matter what’s going to happen in the future, right now…

Right now is perfect.

He kisses the base of Kravitz’s throat one more time, relishes in the contented hum that results, and then, warm and content and _safe,_ he finally drifts off into slumber.

And it’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! as always I'm anonymouspuzzler on tumblr or @BigPuzz on twitter if you ever want to chat


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